Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Jay
The plan is simple: shower, dinner, movie. I’ve been thinking about that Thai curry all day. I even remembered to take it out of the freezer this morning, which feels like a major adult victory.
I toe off my shoes and drop my bag by the side table, half on autopilot but also half reeling from the job I applied for before I left work. Her shoes linger where mine used to sit alone. The apartment feels different these days. I like it.
Making my way over to the kitchen, my foot presses into something squishy.
When I look down, there’s a ball… huh, weird.
I keep on moving, but then I notice something else on the living room floor.
On closer inspection, there’s also a thin stick with some frayed ribbon on the end and a few feathers poking out in opposite directions.
I frown, crouch down, and pick it up. The string is attached like it’s meant to dangle. I don’t recognize it. Not mine, definitely not Liv’s, I don’t think? For a second, I wonder if it’s something from a school project, but then, she paints, not crafts.
I glance around again, suddenly aware that things feel slightly out of place. Liv’s purple throw blanket from the couch is balled up in the corner. There are faint scratches on the edge of the rug, like someone’s dragged something across it or dug in a little too deeply.
Was there some kind of struggle? Is Liv in my room? I quickly rush over, and the shower running is the only noise.
The sound of Liv’s voice follows, muted, but it’s obvious she’s talking to someone.
I stand there for a second, holding the stick with the dangling feather, and I’m not sure why the back of my neck suddenly feels warm. Maybe it’s none of my business. It is none of my business.
Still, I can’t help but feel a little strange about everything, as well as being a little less certain than I was when I walked over here to check she’s okay. Then her voice filters through again. She’s laughing.
I knock once before I can stop myself. There’s going to be a reasonable explanation for this. She’s FaceTiming Daphne, or her parents… yeah, from the shower, right. Okay, maybe she’s…
The door creaks open a moment later, and she’s there, towel wrapped tight around her, hair soaked and dripping down her back, her skin pink from the heat. There’s a scratch on her shoulder. Another higher up near her collarbone.
She doesn’t look surprised to see me. “Hey. You okay?”
I swallow hard and pull my eyes away from her, scanning the room like I might catch someone hiding behind a curtain. “Do you”—I pause because this is a terrible idea, really fucking terrible—“have someone in there?”
Her expression shifts just slightly, somewhere between confused and amused.
“I heard you talking, but I thought we’d warn each other before…”
She still doesn’t answer.
“Okay, no, you’re right, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry for interrupting like that… you can go back to whoever, I’m gonna...” I gesture over my shoulder, backing away, and as I fumble backward, I feel a tug on the stick feather thing I’m still holding.
My head snaps down just as a blur of fur launches itself toward me, clamps its teeth around the ribbon, and yanks with surprising force for something that weighs less than a loaf of bread.
“What the—”
Liv doesn’t say anything for a second. Just watches the madness unfold like she’s been waiting for me to notice.
The tiny grey gremlin circles once around my foot, still holding the feather like a trophy, and then flops dramatically onto the floor as if the performance has taken everything out of him.
My eyes move from the kitten to the bed, where there’s a food bowl, a folded towel they’ve clearly claimed, and a toy mouse with one ear half chewed off.
I look back at Liv, who is entirely unbothered.
“Is that… a cat?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She nods. “Quite the detective, aren’t we?”
“Why is there a cat in here?”
“Because I adopted a cat today.”
“What? Why? How? When?” My brain can’t seem to pick one question.
She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes. I’ve seen cats before.”
“Yeah, but him specifically,” she says, stepping aside so I can get a better look as it rolls onto its back and attempts to chew on its own foot. “One eye, attitude problem. No one wanted him. He was alone. I couldn’t just leave him there.”
I blink again, unsure how I got here. I’d almost rather there was a guy in here instead, at least he might not stick around and pee on my bed. “I… ah, I don’t think I’m allowed pets in this rental.”
“He’s very small,” she says, pushing her bottom lip out.
“I’m allergic.”
“No you’re not. I checked with Hudson.”
Of course she did.
Goddamn it, Hudson.
She turns to grab a clip from her dresser and twists her wet hair up like this is still a normal conversation, like I’m not trying to recalibrate everything I thought I understood about what today would look like.
Dinner, movie, bed. But no, apparently, I left out the cat part.
How naive of me to think I’d come home to my usual apartment.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t the three-legged baby goat I almost brought home,” she adds casually. “Kidding.”
I open my mouth. Then close it. Then stare down at the cat. He’s actually kinda cute, his fur is grey and white swirling together, and he’s insanely fluffy. I’m not sure I’ve ever been a cat person, but… it beats a baby goat, I guess. Wait, am I even okay with this?
“Does he have a name?”
Liv rubs something into her body that smells like summer, and I fight my lungs to inhale deeply. “Well, originally I wanted one of the black kittens, and I’d planned on calling her Wednesday, but they were all reserved.”
I snort an involuntary sound. “And that didn’t deter you at all from not buying a cat?”
“Pfff, no.” She waves her hand around, dismissing all logic.
“So, anyway, the lady said that this guy had been brought in last week and no one wanted him because he has one eye, and I burst into tears.” She sniffs, and something twists in my chest at the sight of her looking so longingly at this cat.
Part of me wants to offer comfort, the other part knows she’s still in a towel, and that would end badly.
Then the other part is still a lot confused about why I’m suddenly looking at a cat.
“Anyway.” She clears her throat and straightens her towel.
“Is it too on the nose to call him Nick Fury?”
I stare at her and wrestle with the bubble of laughter that wants to burst free. I clamp my lips together, hiding my response, but she catches it.
“I’m hoping not, because his outfit is already in the mail.”
I cover my mouth with the back of my hand, but the laugh slips free anyway, slipping out in short bursts like I’ve lost the ability to hold it in. “Nick Fury,” I manage, finally, voice cracking around it. “You want to name your one-eyed rescue cat after Samuel L. Jackson?”
“Not after him. Inspired by.”
“Oh my god.” I shake my head, stepping back a little, but I can’t stop smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation, at the fact I now have a cat living here, and I already know I’m not saying no to Liv. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she replies, hoisting Nick Fury higher onto her hip like he’s a baby instead of a scruffy, one-eyed kitten. He assesses me, unimpressed.
“He’s glaring at me.”
“He only has one eye. That’s literally the best he can do.”
“He looks like he wants to fight me.”
Liv moves to see his face. “He looks like he’s contemplating world domination,” she says, petting him gently behind the ear. “It’s very Nick Fury of him.”
I glance around the room again, succumbing to my fate. “So he lives here now?”
She shrugs. “He chose us.”
“You mean you.”
She shrugs again.
“And where is he going to live when you go to your campus housing?”
She shrugs again. “We’ll figure something out.”
There’s a pause while I try to think of something reasonable to say about boundaries or leases or responsibilities, but the words feel a little stupid now that I’m watching this one-eyed fluff ball headbutt her chin with all the love in the world.
“I don’t even know if I like cats,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. And yet here I am, following them both into my room as she sits down with him in her arms, then he moves, nuzzling into her hair.
I sigh, and he spins to face me, sleepy eye blinking, and begins to slowly walk over until I find myself moving toward the bed, sitting on the edge, and he plops himself into my lap and purrs loudly.
“Well, that’s awkward,” she says, not missing a beat, “because it looks like he already likes you.”
Nick Fury nudges my hand with his tiny little nose, and it’s in this very moment that I realize I’m screwed. So very screwed.
“Fine. But if he destroys something—”
“I’ll replace it.”
I glance up, ready to tell her that next time she feels impulsive, she needs to ask me first, but she’s smiling at me like she already knows I’ve lost. Which I have.
Completely.